


Fic: Unexpected (Leverage, Eliot/Quinn)

by theron09



Category: Leverage
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-27
Updated: 2012-12-27
Packaged: 2017-11-22 18:20:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/612808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theron09/pseuds/theron09
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Quinn gets in trouble there is only one place he can go to for help</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fic: Unexpected (Leverage, Eliot/Quinn)

**Title** : Unexpected

**Fandom** : Leverage

**Pairing** : Eliot/Quinn

**Rating** : PG-13 (with a little Leverage type violence)

**Word Count** : 3284

**Summary** : When Quinn gets in trouble there is only one place he can go to for help.

###  **Beta** : [](http://laranlas-keryn.livejournal.com/profile)[**laranlas_keryn**](http://laranlas-keryn.livejournal.com/)

### 

**A/N:** for [](http://jesco0307.livejournal.com/profile)[**jesco0307**](http://jesco0307.livejournal.com/) – I know it’s a little late for me to say Merry Christmas with it so I’ll say I hope you have a fantastic 2013 instead!

Somewhere in the distance there were carol singers enthusiastically performing a familiar tune. Quinn kept the hand he had placed across his mouth pressed tightly, once again regretting the fact that breathing was necessary - at times like this it was just too loud. Whichever one of his assailants had entered the room was taking his time, methodically searching the aisles. Quinn could only hope that he wasn’t experienced enough to look upwards as well; otherwise he stood no chance of getting out of the situation without shedding at least some blood. 

By the time the man’s footsteps were sounding out in the corridor instead of in the huge storage room he’d hidden in Quinn was feeling dizzy and he was forced to allow himself to breathe sooner than he’d have liked to. Staying flat against the top of the storage container he had climbed onto, he attempted to remember the route he had taken through the building to get there. He couldn’t do it – he’d been in such a rush to get to safety that he’d only half taken in his surroundings and now he was stuck somewhere within the depths of a strange building with at least seven – probably more – armed men after him.

He was capable of taking on that many men; in a situation like this they’d be spread out, wary of shooting at any noise in fear of hitting one of their own. But his odds still weren’t great and having a clearer idea of an exit strategy would have given him more confidence. He didn’t, though, and there was no point dwelling on scenarios that could have been. 

Descending from the top of the storage container as quietly as possible Quinn stood still for a moment and listened for any sign that someone had heard him. Once he was sure they hadn’t, he began to look around for anything that could be used as a weapon. There wasn’t much choice until he began to break into the storage containers – thankful that the quiet skill of lock-picking was one he possessed – and found one full of boxes. The neatly written labels told him that these were household items, things stored during a house move, and he quickly found a box full of kitchen utensils. A steak knife wouldn’t have been his first choice for a weapon – knives meant having to get close to people – but it would do.

The corridor he’d escaped from was empty and he guessed the men had moved onto checking another floor. If he was lucky, that would give him enough time to travel downstairs and outside. He’d have to move quickly, though, and that would mean taking a few risks and going a little faster around corners than was safe.  

Risking a quick look out of the window he saw one solitary man – only a boy, really - left guarding the main entrance to the building. The men following him were obviously confident in their ability to track him down inside.  Whether that confidence was well-placed or not Quinn had no idea. Knowing who it was that had hired his assailants would help – the amount of people chasing him told Quinn that whoever it was they were obviously determined but aside from that they could be working on behalf of any number of people. He had made an awful lot of enemies in his lifetime. 

One inexperienced man wouldn’t be a problem to Quinn if he managed to reach the building’s exit. Feeling a little more knowledgeable he set off down the corridor, aiming for speed but still keeping his feet as light as possible against the floor. The more time he bought for himself undetected, the better. He reached the stairs and tightened his grip on the knife just in case there was someone stationed at the end. 

There wasn’t, and he began down the stairs. He wasn’t even half way down before the yelling started up. Sacrificing quiet in favour of more speed he hurried down the stairs, taking them two at a time. 

It didn’t take long for the people chasing Quinn to choose effectiveness over remaining undetected, either. He still had around two flights of stairs to go when the guns started firing. Swearing, he began to move from side to side; it slowed him down but it also made his chances of being hit less likely and it’d be easier to get out of this situation if he wasn’t bleeding. 

“Just give up!” shouted one of the men.

Quinn resisted the urge to shout ‘never’ and settled for flipping his finger in the general direction of those following him. 

He reached the bottom of the stairs and started up the corridor, hoping that he had remembered the layout of the ground floor correctly. Only a little way to go when he rounded a corner and saw the main entrance and the kid who’d been left as a sentry was entering the building. Quinn had barely even had time to think about the fact that he hated hitting barely-adults when he saw the flash of a gun and all he could do was try and throw himself out of the way of the bullet. 

It still found its target. 

Quinn stumbled at the impact but kept on running with eyes fixed on _his_ new target, no longer feeling any guilt in attacking somebody so young. The kid’s shot must have just been lucky because, up close, Quinn took him down with hardly any effort even though he now had an injured shoulder. 

With the exit in front of him clear and the shouts behind him getting closer there was only one thing for Quinn to do. He bolted for the exit – if he could get outside where there would be witnesses around there wouldn’t be much else the men could do for now. He’d have time to get away and get to safety. 

Safety, he thought, was going to be hard to find in a place he didn’t know very well. Boston wasn’t somewhere he had worked in a lot and it didn’t take him long, only until he’d found a car to steal, to decide that he really only had one option.

Eliot Spencer was going to kill him.

~~

Eliot Spencer wasn’t going to kill him because Quinn had a plan. 

The success of his plan depended, really, on the sort of reception he was going to receive when Eliot answered the door but Quinn was hopeful. He knocked on the door to Eliot’s apartment once more and then leaned back against the opposite wall to wait. 

“Parker, if you’ve forgotten anything-” Eliot broke off.

“Sorry, I’m not nearly as cute as Parker. I have been called adorable on occasion, though,” Quinn tried to smirk but it turned into a grimace as Eliot grabbed his uninjured shoulder and pulled him forwards.

“You’re bleeding all over the corridor – get inside,” Eliot said with a scowl.

“I’m not bleeding that much.”

“Really?”

Quinn glanced back at the wall he’d been leaning on when Eliot pointed at it and winced at the blood stains he’d left behind. “Oops.”

“I’ll clean it up in a minute once you’re sorted. Or better still, you can do it.”

“I’m injured.”

“ _Not that much._ What happened? If you’ve been followed here I’ll-”

“I haven’t.” Quinn dropped down into the chair Eliot directed him to. The first part of his plan had worked – get inside Eliot’s place. Now he just had to hope the rest would as well. “This was a lone gunman. I dealt with him. I just needed somewhere to go to clean up and sort this wound, and then I’ll be out of your way. I don’t know anyone else in Boston so-”

“It’s fine.” Eliot tossed a first aid kit at him. “I owe you, remember?”        

He almost shrugged but remembered his shoulder just in time. “Even so, it’s Christmas time. I’m sorry to barge in.”

“What are you doing in Boston at Christmas anyway?”

“I was meant to be meeting my cousin but he ended up… engaged in other things.” 

Once he had taken everything he would need out of the first aid kit Quinn paused; he wouldn’t be able to do anything until he had his top off - something that would be difficult with an injured shoulder. 

Eliot sighed, “Here – I’ll have to cut it off for you.”

Quinn nodded and kept as still as possible as Eliot cut away at the material. Once his top was out of the way he expected Eliot to back off again but, instead, the other hitter continued with the task of cleaning up the shoulder wound. 

“Thanks, man,” Quinn said. It felt like they’d gone past being uneasy allies to something more like friends – or as close to friendship as people like them could get - and Quinn couldn’t help but feel a little guilty for not revealing the whole truth about his situation.

Eliot finished stitching up the hole in Quinn’s shoulder and reached for some gauze. “It’s not too bad – you’ve lost some blood but I’m guessing you’ve had worse.” 

“You’re right.” He looked around the room as Eliot taped the gauze. “Hey, you’ve actually got a Christmas tree – you’re actually settled down.”

“You don’t have to be settled down to have a Christmas tree. I bet you have one.”

“I don’t, sorry. I have Christmas songs on my i-pod though.” 

Eliot snorted. “Figures. There you go – you’re done. You want something for the pain?”

He shook his head. “I’ll deal. You’re not really going to make me go scrub that wall clean are you?”

“I’ll do it. You just sit there – don’t go snooping. I’ll know.”

Complying, Quinn relaxed back into the chair and closed his eyes. He listened to the sounds of Eliot moving around the apartment and then out into the corridor. 

Getting out of Boston would be the smart thing to do. He’d be able to leave undetected – steal a car or get a cab ride. But someone had wanted revenge enough to pay for a serious offensive against him and unless he found out who was after him there would most likely be other attacks no matter where he went. If he moved quickly –smartly - there was a chance he could sort out his problem before leaving Boston. 

“Do you need to crash here tonight?” Eliot walked back inside the apartment. “You lost quite a bit of blood.”

Quinn knew he shouldn’t. There was a threat Eliot didn’t know about. He should politely decline and find a cheap motel room somewhere. But Eliot was being generous – whether it was out of an increased trust for him or a good mood caused by the holiday season Quinn didn’t know – and Quinn was curious to find out more about Eliot. Having another hitter close by if someone happened to find him would also help increase his own chances of survival.

“Quinn?”

“Sure,” he answered. “As long as you’re good with that.”

Eliot shrugged, “You’re injured – don’t think you’ll be much of a problem.”

Quinn didn’t completely agree with that – he had been known to cause a lot of damage when injured – but he decided it would be wise if he didn’t voice his protests. Instead he pulled on the top that Eliot shoved at him and tried to work out how he could work out who was targeting him while keeping Eliot in the dark about the threat. 

“You’re going to have to stay out of the kitchen,” Eliot said. “I’m prepping for Christmas dinner and no-one is allowed in there.”

“What if I want a drink?”

“You tell me.”

“You want to play maid, I’m not going to stop you.” Smirking, Quinn half-expected a punch but Eliot just shook his head and wandered off into what was presumably the kitchen.

Quinn couldn’t decide whether, left alone, his time would be best spent by looking around Eliot’s living room to find out more about the guy or calling every contact he had to try and find information. In the end, he opted for neither and headed for the kitchen instead. 

“Do you ever listen to anything?”

“I won’t touch anything – just wanted to see the so-called brilliant chef at work. Eliot Spencer’s culinary skills are well-known, after all.” It looked to Quinn as though Eliot tried not to smile at that but his lips still curled upwards anyway.

“You can sit on that stool right there and remember, touching doesn’t require your hands anywhere near the food.”

“Understood, Chef.”

Watching Eliot work was actually quite relaxing; Quinn hadn’t realised how on edge he had been until his muscles started to feel a little less tense. And if the way Eliot was handling the ingredients was anything to go by, the rumours about the taste of his food weren’t exaggerated; Quinn hoped he’d get to try something.

It was only as Eliot was pulling some mince pies out of the oven that it hit Quinn. He was sitting in Eliot Spencer’s kitchen watching him cook after being patched up by said hitter-slash-chef and invited to stay for the night. This was more than he’d _ever_ imagined he’d be allowed to be a part of with Eliot. Even after he’d helped the team out with the Dubenich situation he’d still felt like he they were an _us_ and he was a _them._ ow Eliot was helping him with no hesitation. More than that, he had allowed Quinn into his home and allowed him to witness something totally unrelated to work. 

“Do you want to try one?” Eliot held out a mince pie. “Watch out – it’ll be hot.”

He stared in surprise for a moment before reaching out and taking it from Eliot. Their fingers brushed for a moment – the first time they’d touched when they weren’t fighting or giving each other a friendly slap on the back or sewing up a wound. 

“Are you going to eat or just look at it all day?” Eliot asked gruffly, not quite meeting Quinn’s eyes.

“I don’t know – I was thinking maybe I’d woo it first, take it for a walk in the park and-”

“Funny. You’re not a very good taste tester, are you?”

“I’m a _great_ taste tester.” He took a bite and gave a muffled sound of contentment. Once he’d finished chewing and swallowed he looked back at the mince pie again. “Forget wooing – I want to marry it.”

Eliot snorted. “You’re dramatic – you know that?”

“I’m sorry – have you tasted this?”

“Dramatic. I’d have thrown you out by now if you weren’t so-” he broke off abruptly. Quinn was immediately interested.

“If I wasn’t so what?”

“Nothing.” 

“Aw, come on. You’ve started now, you might as well finish.”

Eliot turned away and started placing dishes in the sink. “I’m not going to-”

“Please.”

“No.”

“Then I’m just going to insert a word and assume I’m right,” Quinn teased. “Let’s see – if I wasn’t so…sexy, alluring-”

“You’re not far off.”

“Boyfriend material and – what?” Quinn stood up from the stool and grabbed Eliot’s shoulder, pulling him around without much resistance. “What did you just say? Before the boyfriend material thing.”

“I said,” Eliot spoke quietly, “that you weren’t far off.”

Quinn had known to expect the unexpected from Eliot but _this_ hadn’t even crossed his mind. Now that it had he found that the idea wasn’t so surprising after all. They had a lot in common, after all. The idea was, he thought, also a nice one. Eliot was hot but more than that he was interesting. Quinn hadn’t spent a lot of time with him but all of the time they had spent together had been enjoyable – even when they had been fighting there had been a playful edge. 

“Are you being serious or are you mocking me?” Quinn tilted his head. 

“Neither, really. Just stating a truth.”

The day so far had already been full of unpredictable things - Quinn figured he couldn’t make it any worse by taking a risk so he started to lean forwards, giving Eliot time to back away from the kiss that was obviously about to happen if he wanted to. 

Eliot didn’t back away. 

Their lips were almost touching, Eliot’s hand already resting on Quinn’s side and they were close, so close, when the distinctive sound of the front door being kicked in interrupted them. 

_ Damn. _ Quinn had never expected them to find him so soon. Definitely not at Eliot’s. Definitely not when he and Eliot were just about to kiss. 

“It wasn’t a lone gunman, was it?” Eliot’s face was still near Quinn’s, strangely neutral considering someone had just broken into his apartment. 

"No, not really.” He glanced around the kitchen. “Man, I really wish you liked guns – the last time I went up against these guys with a knife I got shot.”

“Now isn’t the best time to criticise me.”

Quinn fell silent because, yeah, Eliot was in the right and they didn’t have time for him to explain himself now. 

“How many are we up against here, Quinn?” 

“I have no idea.”

Eliot scowled but reached for the door handle. “Well let’s give ‘em all we’ve got anyway.”

~~

Quinn should have known it was Larsen that had thrown so much money into hiring people to kill him. Larsen was _just_ the type; too much money and a grudge against him from that time in Alaska. In a way he was lucky that it _was_ Larsen – the man had never had much talent when it came to hiring people who were actually competent. If it had been someone else, someone who had hired people that were actually a match for Eliot and he, then instead of cleaning up spots of blood off Eliot’s floor more of that blood could have been his own.

“You should have told me.” Eliot didn’t sound angry, he sounded betrayed – somehow that was worse.

“I thought about it.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

“I don’t _know_ you, Eliot. I didn’t know whether you’d have helped or turned me away or even cared whether I lived or died.”

“You _could_ have told me. At least I’d have been prepared – I mean, this wasn’t exactly the best Christmas surprise, Quinn.”

“You know what it’s like.” He doesn’t need to finish the rest of the sentence. _Being a hitter_ goes unspoken. 

“I suppose I do.”

Not knowing who to trust. Having enemies that become friends and friends that become enemies. Being so used to depending on yourself that doing anything else is an alien concept. At one time, Quinn thought, Eliot probably did know what that was like. Now he has a team.

Eliot sighed. “You could have told me – but I think I understand why you didn’t. Now you know, though – if you don’t tell me next time we’re going to have a problem.”

“If you’re saying there’ll definitely be a next time, I may have another Christmas surprise for you.” Quinn licked his lips, unsure of how welcome this was going to be after the events of the day. He had to try though - grabbing opportunities was something he tried to make a habit of.

“Yeah?”

Nodding, Quinn kissed Eliot – quicker this time than last because he’d learned his lesson. Lips met lips. Strength met strength. Quinn wondered why he hadn’t worked this out sooner and he wondered whether this would go anywhere and then Eliot grabbed at his hip and Quinn stopped thinking. 

They pulled back only when they needed air, Quinn ignoring the twinge in his injured shoulder at the sudden movement. “Was that surprise okay?” Quinn asked. 

Eliot smiled. “Much better.” 


End file.
